


Life As You Know It

by RandomRyu



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, M/M, Slurs, Violence, abuse mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomRyu/pseuds/RandomRyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wish I could say it was a good, relaxing life. A stereotypical, kind of boring, but relaxing life.</p>
<p>But I would be a damn liar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life As You Know It

While he was working, I stayed home and cleaned the house. While he was busy planning out, measuring, and sewing beautiful bridal dresses, I made sure that the our rooms were spotless as they could be when he returned home. Dinner was on the table when he walked through the door, and after he ate, I washed the dishes while he relaxed on the couch. It has come to be everyday routine, something that my body can go on doing while my mind either powered down or acted up. I wish I could say it was a good, relaxing life. A stereotypical, kind of boring, but relaxing life.

But I would be a damn liar.

The bloodstains in all the fabric won’t come out no matter how much I scrub, no matter the amount of fruity smelling hand soap I use. It only leaves the smell of damp blood and berries, making my weakening stomach lurch and threaten to spill the little amount of contents it holds. The dirt and grime that stain the walls and floors of this godforsaken asylum refuse to lift, and scrubbing them only pushes the muck deeper into the surface. I don’t trust the water that runs from the sinks and showers. You never know in this place, you never know what or who to trust. The water could be dirty, diseased, but it’s all we have, it’s the only source of water that we have. I can’t leave, not in the excuse to get us better things, get our family better things-

He’s not even my husband, but if I say otherwise he’ll- he’ll hurt me, call me terrible, terrible things and put me down, threaten to murder me just like all the others. But even the idea of death is a more pleasant one than this sad excuse of a life I’m living now.

But I can’t. I can’t give up, no matter how painful it is. Lisa is still out there, probably trying to search for me and contact me. Goddammit, if I only I still had my cellphone. I don’t even know what happened to it. I don’t think it would even be of any use. I’ve tried the office phones too many times to remember when the riots first broke out and the patients started causing mayhem. I’ve tried typing in any numbers I knew, but no matter what, no matter how long I waited for the ringing to signify that at least something was going through, there was only the drone of a mechanical hum filling my ear. 

With no connection to the outside world at all, there’s barely a chance I’ll get out of here alive.

Everything just hurts so much. My body aches all over.

No matter how many days pass and how many times that psycho ‘cares’ for me, the wounds that he inflicted upon me still ooze blood and refuse to heal. Going to the bathroom hurts, walking hurts, sitting down hurts- simply moving makes the wound radiate with pain and make me want to fall to my knees and give up. But if I complain at all, about anything, he’ll hurt me for that, too- he’ll hit me and call me a bitch, a slut, a whore. He’ll scream at me, calling me ungrateful and a sad excuse for a wife. Even if he’s not my spouse even in the slightest bit, deep down, it still stings to hear such a thing.

This man- this man wants a family of his own. And I can’t give that to him. I blame being under his hold for a good amount of time, but- but part of me feels ashamed that I can’t give him what he wants. Even if he ‘operated’ on me to make me a “true woman,” it isn’t going to get him what he wants. He doesn’t understand that concept. I know he doesn’t, with that thick skull of his that only holds the desire for a family and a desire to kill. No matter how many times he grabs me, grabs me so hard that it feels like I’ll break, and violates me, he’ll never get a child. He doesn’t deserve one. Any offspring that would be from his DNA would be a monster, just like he is. And I wouldn’t let that disaster out into the world.

I just have to keep remembering Lisa. Remembering that she’s still out there and still looking for me, expecting me to come home to her and live a normal life. Waiting for me to come through the door and kiss me hello before settling down in front of the television and ordering Chinese for dinner. Both of us having a real, healthy, passionate relationship instead of one built around false promises, blood, and violence.

The sound of a door opening and closing made me pause in the middle of stitching up the side of a dress on the sewing machine, my heart instantly beginning to race with pure fear.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie called out, his voice carrying through the room like a boom of thunder, making my heart lurch and beat faster (if that was even humanly possible).

He’s back, and my precious alone time is over. No amount of mental and physical exercises and prepare me for the violence and blood to come.


End file.
